my face is covered
in white
cream

a blade waits in my hand
and I look in the
mirror

my sad eyes are there
so are my simple ears
my nose
barely visible over my
temporary
beard

so much there
in my
face

I move the razor up to an
inch away

I stop

I look in the mirror again

my eyes scream something
like the depressed, silent child
screams something

I listen hard but I can’t
hear it

I move the razor to my face
take the first long drag
off my right cheek

I look at the scar
now I am imperfect

I look at my eyes once
again
now in comparison to my
jigsaw makeup

I listen
and I hear my sad eyes
scream

this is what I’ve been waiting for
the freedom from perfection
my jigsaw face seems better somehow
my eyes for once seem bright

I wash the razor in the sink
and go on shaving